


Fragile

by Lavender_and_Vanilla



Series: Lavender_and_Vanilla Explains It All or Fanfiction Fixes Everything [6]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Almost Comfort Sex, Comfort Sex, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, Post-Episode: s04e01 The Six Thatchers, The Six Thatchers Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2017-03-14
Packaged: 2018-10-04 19:10:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10286939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lavender_and_Vanilla/pseuds/Lavender_and_Vanilla
Summary: There is a life after a death.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from the song of the same name on Sting's Nothing Like The Sun album. It seemed apropos.

“Fuck!” Greg slammed his fist on his desktop. Mycroft jumped; startled out of the morose reverie he had slipped into as he sat in the visitor’s chair in Greg’s office. He looked over at his partner, who was gripping his silver hair with both hands as he took calming breaths before resuming his report.

“Gregory, it can wait until tomorrow.” Mycroft spoke softly.

“No. I can’t fucking put this off. I need it done. It has to be done. Once it’s done…” 

Greg stopped and took a deep shuddering breath.

“Alright, my dear.” Mycroft settled back in the hard seat, gripping his umbrella.

Greg typed a few more paragraphs and Mycroft let the sound wash over him. He closed his eyes and continued to replay in his mind the horror of the last few hours. He categorized and cataloged every detail. The shot and Mary’s leap; the blood; the nausea; Greg’s team scrambling and Sherlock’s desperate cry for an ambulance; his own race for the EMS, grateful for something to do; Mary’s last words and John’s desolate keening. Mycroft swallowed convulsively against the rising gorge in his throat. He hated legwork. The noise and the people were bad enough, but the blood… He tightened his hold on his umbrella handle.

“Shouldn’t you be with Sherlock?” Greg’s tone was a bit terse, but Mycroft didn’t take umbrage. 

“No. Mrs. Hudson is with him.” Mycroft paused. “He blames me, naturally.”

Greg looked up puzzled. “How?”

“I am too fat and slow,” Mycroft replied tonelessly.

“Jesus Christ, My.”

“It’s fine, Gregory.” Mycroft smiled sadly at his lover. “Are you done?”

Greg looked over the report on his computer screen and sighed. “Yeah.” He pushed back from the desk and turned his eyes to look at Mycroft. “My…?” There was uncertainty in his voice.

“It is not your fault, either, Gregory.”

Greg exhaled heavily. “I should have followed up with Johnson.”

“Even if the ambulance was properly positioned it would not have mattered. She was bleeding to quickly.” They were quiet. “I should not have allowed the dramatic confrontation. It was grand standing and hubris.”

“It’s not your fault either, My.” Greg echoed back at his partner. Mycroft simply stared into space; his thoughts on his upcoming tasks. Greg stood and stepped over to his partner. He held out his hands. “C’mon love. Let’s go home.”

Mycroft looked up and was assisted to his feet. Greg pulled Mycroft out of his seat and toward him, wrapping his arms around his lover seeking reassurance. Mycroft sighed softly as Greg hid his face in the warm space between the jaw and shoulder. They stood there for a few moments being grateful the other was safe.

Greg lifted his face and Mycroft turned to kiss his partner gently. Greg gave a low whine as he returned the kiss, turning it into something more intense. He tugged Mycroft against his body holding him tight as he reached around to caress his lover’s back. Hands strayed downward, gripping and groping. 

Mycroft was surprised at the speed with which a moment seeking comfort turned into intense arousal. He cupped Greg’s head with both hands; his umbrella clattered to the floor. Kissing hungrily, he pressed back with the length of his body. He could feel Greg’s erection through his clothing grow and pulse; it fueled his own burgeoning need. 

They stumbled up against Greg’s desk. Soft moans and quiet grunts were the only verbal communication. Greg began to tug at Mycroft’s fly. The younger man broke off the kissing. “Here? Now?” His pupils were dilated and his lips kiss swollen.  
“Oh God, My. I just want to touch you. I want you to touch me. I need to feel you.” Greg growled breathlessly as he worked the buttons on his partner’s trousers. 

Mycroft nodded understanding the urge.

There was a sharp rap at the office door and the two men froze.

“Oi, boss,” came Donovan’s voice. Mycroft pulled away and rapidly repaired his fly. Greg wiped his mouth and seated himself behind his desk.

“Come in,” Greg called as Mycroft kicked his umbrella under the desk and turned his back to the door to ‘study’ the map on the wall.

Donovan opened the door and stuck her head in. “We’re wanted at a scene at the docks.”

“What? Isn’t Dimmock up?”

“No, he’s been called to another case. We’re up since…” she paused. With a glance at Mycroft, she continued, “Since the Watson case is pretty much wrapped up.”

“Bugger all.” Greg shot a glance over at the elder Holmes, who shrugged.

“Sorry,” the sergeant offered.

Greg nodded. “Get the team together. I’ll be ready in a minute.” She acknowledged her instructions and shut the door.

Mycroft turned toward his lover. He smiled ruefully and reached out to smooth the silver hair that had been mussed earlier by his hands. “A rain check then.”

“Sorry.” Greg stood and gave Mycroft a quick peck. “I may be late.” He adjusted himself and re-tucked his shirt.

“You will certainly be late.”

“Don’t wait up.”

“I will go back to the office for a bit. There are a few tasks I can start this evening.”

“Eat something, yeah?”

“Yes, dear.” Mycroft rolled his eyes.

Greg snorted. “There is leftover lasagna,” he suggested as he and Mycroft donned their coats.

“If Anja didn’t throw it out. She was going to deep clean the kitchen this week.”

Greg bent down and fished Mycroft’s umbrella out from under his desk. “Take away it is. Get some for me.” He handed the brolly over.

“Of course.”

Greg straightened Mycroft’s tie. “I’ll see you later then.”

“Be safe, my dear.”

“Always, love.”

FIN

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little something I cooked up. Mycroft and Greg had to have some reaction to Mary's death. There is also a possible explanation for the empty fridge and for Mycroft's reaction to certain events in The Final Problem.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [An Afternoon Appointment](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12264987) by [heelofpatroclus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/heelofpatroclus/pseuds/heelofpatroclus)




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